Robert and the Doctor
by Skye Maxwell
Summary: After not seeing Lane for many years, Robbie visits him at his private practice. They reflect on their days at Hollywood Arts and how their lives have changed since then.


**Robert and the Doctor**

"Robbie! It's so good to see you!" Lane exclaimed, shaking Robbie's hand across the coffee table. "Or should I call you Robert now?"

"You can still call me Robbie," Robbie said, briefly shaking Lane's hand. "It's good to see you too, Lane. Or, I guess it's Doctor Alexander now, huh?" Robbie said, looking at a framed doctoral degree on the wall. "Fancy."

Lane laughed and waved off the notion. "My patients call me Doctor Alexander. My friends call me Lane."

Robbie pressed his lips together, still unsure of what he was supposed to call him.

"Call me Lane, son," Lane sighed.

"Oh, okay… _Lane_ ," Robbie said with a grin, realizing that Lane was saying he was a friend.

"Go ahead and take a seat," Lane said, his hand hovering over the many bottles of lotion on the coffee table and finally settling on a pastel green one. "Honeydew?" he asked Robbie after pumping a generous amount into his own palm.

"I would love some," Robbie replied, now seated on a plush sofa. "This is a nice couch," Robbie commented as Lane pumped the lotion into his hand. "When you sit, you sink in just enough to feel like you're getting a little couch hug."

"That's an interesting way of looking at it," Lane said, sitting in a similarly plush armchair and never having thought of the sensation as a little armchair hug.

"Is this the edible kind?" Robbie asked about the lotion, licking his hand.

"No," Lane said flatly.

"Oh," Robbie said shortly as the chemicals hit his taste buds, making him grimace. "Yum," he joked uncomfortably, rubbing the rest of the lotion in so he wouldn't accidentally try and eat it again.

"So, this office is really something," Robbie said, looking around the tastefully decorated space. "How's private practice treating you?"

"It's treating me well," Lane said warmly. "I love what I do here, plus I'm my own boss, and the pay is great."

"How did you go from high school guidance counselor to all this?" Robbie asked curiously, leaning forward. While he was in college, Robbie had heard from Sikowitz that some sort of "debacle" had gone down at Hollywood Arts and that Lane had quit, but he had never gotten the full story.

"Well, the year after you graduated, my brother came to the school-"

"Your brother the chiropractor?"

"Yeah, the chiropractor," Lane scowled. "He's such a gank."

"Why is he a gank?"

"All my life, my brother bullied me. He told me that my dreams were stupid and that I would never achieve anything. Even when I was in undergrad double-majoring in psychology and dance with a 4.0 GPA, my brother would call me up just to tell me I was a failure."

Propping his chin on his fist and leaning forward a little more, Robbie asked, "And how did that make you feel?"

"It made me feel like a steaming pile of poo!" Lane exclaimed, obviously disturbed by this part of his past. "Like I was saying, my brother showed up at Hollywood Arts out of the blue one day. I hadn't talked to him in years because I refused to let him put me down anymore, but when I saw him, I thought maybe he came to apologize for always being so vile to me."

"And did he?"

"No! He came to make fun of me; he said being a high school guidance counselor was a joke. "

"That's horrible," Robbie said, slumping back into the couch. "For the record, I thought you were a great guidance counselor, and the rest of the gang thought so too. You weren't a joke to us."

"Thanks, Robbie. That means a lot to me. But my brother was kind of right. Compared to the dreams I had when I was younger, being a high school guidance counselor _was_ a joke. Even though my brother is still a complete gank, he made me realize I had become complacent with my dreams. And now, I'm achieving all of those dreams."

"All of those dreams? How many are there?"

"Since I was young, I wanted three things: to have my own private practice, to be a dancer, and to be a meteorologist."

"Wait, now you're a therapist, a dancer, _and_ a meteorologist?"

"Well, kind of. I'm working on it. I teach dance at the community center on weekends, and they always have me do a solo at the recitals," Lane said, taking a community center pamphlet from a stack on the coffee table and handing it to Robbie.

Robbie flipped briefly through the booklet, raising his eyebrows at a photo on the back cover of Lane and some senior citizens doing provocative poses.

"Oh, that's for an upcoming recital. It's a tribute to Ke$ha," Lane told Robbie. "The elderly love Ke$ha."

"Apparently!"

"And as far as being a meteorologist, I do a weather vlog every Monday night talking about the weather from the past week."

"You vlog about weather that's already happened?" Robbie asked, setting the dance flyer down beside him. "Aren't meteorologists supposed to predict the weather that _hasn't_ happened yet?"

"Well, traditionally speaking, yes, but I don't have all the fancy equipment and such to do that. It's okay though. I'm starting with weather of the past and working my way up to weather of the future."

"Wow, that's awesome," Robbie said, admiring Lane's perseverance and wisdom.

"Yeah, that'll show my gank of a brother," Lane said spitefully.

Robbie frowned and made a mental note to not go to Lane for help with any sibling issues. Deciding to move the conversation away from Lane's gank of a brother, he asked, "Do you ever miss being at Hollywood Arts?"

"Sometimes," Lane said thoughtfully, "but not enough to actually want to go back. I loved that school, really. It just had a great vibe, you know? I was friends with my co-workers, and the students always blew me away with their talent. When I left though, it was the right time to go. Your class was special to me, so the fact that all my favorite students had graduated and moved on helped make my decision a little easier."

"We were really your favorite class?" Robbie asked. He had always felt a certain affection for his graduating class, but he figured he was biased since the class was comprised of himself and all his best friends.

"Definitely. There was always something different about you guys, in a good way. For those four years, it felt like the halls of Hollywood Arts were just more… vibrant," Lane said sincerely. "Hey, do you keep in contact with any of those guys? I wonder how they're doing."

"I keep in touch with all of them, actually. Some more than others, and it's pretty rare these days that all of us are together at once. I was able to get lunch with Jade last week. She's been doing some indie films and getting great reviews from the critics."

"That's wonderful. She always worked so hard on her acting and writing," Lane said. "I'm curious about what happened to Cat. I got to know her pretty well. She spent a _lot_ of time in my office," he said in a roundabout way, but then he added bluntly, "Girl had issues."

"Yeah…" Robbie said awkwardly. "I married her."

"Oh! Congratulations!" Lane said just as awkwardly. "She's a great girl. So fun-loving and sweet and talented and _unique_ ," he said, attempting to heap on the compliments.

"It's okay," Robbie said forgivingly. "She's had her issues, but she's worked through a lot of them. She still has her quirks, but to me, she's perfect."

Lane leaned forward, giving Robbie a pensive look. "You know… back in high school, Cat had a lot of trouble with relationships," he said, remembering all the times Cat had run into his office crying over a boy not treating her right. "It seems like you're the kind of guy I was always telling her she deserved."

"Please don't make me cry right now," Robbie said, preemptively taking off his glasses in case the tears came out anyways. "That would be embarrassing."

"I'll try not to, but I want you to know that this is a safe space if you need to let it out," Lane said seriously.

Robbie laughed a little at himself as he wiped the corners of his eyes and replaced his glasses. "Good to know. Maybe another day."

"So what else is going on in your life? Any kids?"

"One on the way. It's a girl," Robbie said proudly, having recently found out the gender.

"Oh my goodness! Congratulations again! Gosh, I can't believe how grown up you are!"

"Thanks. I'm excited. I don't know if we'll have any more kids after this, though. Being pregnant kinda freaks Cat out," Robbie said, only halfway joking.

"You know what? I don't blame her. Honestly, pregnancy freaks me out too. I know it's like, a miracle, but it's a _gross_ miracle," Lane said, grimacing. "Anyways, have you picked out a name yet?"

Robbie shook his head. "At first Cat wanted to name the baby Catherine or Caitlyn or something so her nickname could be Cat too, but I don't know, I feel like that would be confusing. Then she wanted to name her Robin or Roberta so her nickname could be Rob or Robbie, but that would also be confusing, for different reasons…"

Lane laughed. "Well, I suppose you two still have time to figure that out. And how are you doing, career-wise?"

"Cat is doing the singing thing, and we write most of her songs together. I accompany her at her live performances on guitar, and I also picked up piano in college. I've sold a handful of songs to other artists, and one jingle to a candy company."

"Wait, is it the company with the dancing panda mascot who eats candy all day? Don't tell me you wrote the Pandie's Candies jingle!"

"Yeparooni, that was me. They send us candy every Christmas. Cat loves it."

"I love their Pandie Taffy! Okay, tell me what else you've been up to before I get star struck."

"Let's see, I did a guest appearance on Beck's TV show during its third season. I'm sure you've heard of it."

"I have! But I need to catch up on it," Lane admitted guiltily. "I binge-watched the first two seasons on Netflix, but I haven't gotten back around to watching it yet."

"Well when you do get to it, I play the older brother of Beck's love interest. I don't want to spoil anything, but if the writers keep going in the same direction they've been going, my character might have to make another appearance."

"Now I definitely have to catch up! That's nice that you two got to work together," Lane said. "And I'm happy that you keep in touch with all of them. You guys were so close in high school."

"Yeah, I'm a lucky guy," Robbie said, sincerely believing that to be true.

"So I have to ask, Robbie, why did you come here to see me today?" Lane asked.

"First of all, I wanted to see your office and hear about how you're doing. I heard from a friend that you were here, and I had to come see it myself. I'm glad I did."

"I'm glad you did too, Robbie," Lane said fondly.

"And the second reason I came was to tell you that I don't need therapy."

"You… came to therapy to tell me you don't need therapy?"

"Yeah. Cat may have been the one who saw you the most in high school, but I was the one who saw you the second most. I had issues," Robbie said with a little shrug. "You got me thinking about who I was and the way I treated myself. Even after high school, the things I learned from you stuck with me. I saw a therapist in college, and Cat and I did couples' counseling before we got married."

"It's really good to hear that you kept up with therapy. I know it must have been hard, but I'm really proud of you. And now?"

"And now… now I can confidently say I don't hate myself anymore."

A lump formed in Lane's throat. He would never forget that day; the day when Robbie was sitting in his office looking like the life had been sucked out of him. He would never forget how awful it felt to hear a seventeen-year-old Robbie admit out loud, _"Lane… I hate myself."_

Seeing that Lane was starting to get emotional, Robbie continued, "I can't tell you how much of a relief that is. I wanted to share that relief with you, because dealing with a teenage boy who hated himself must have been some burden on you. Thank you for willingly taking on that burden. I'm happy now, and stable. I don't need therapy anymore. I'm okay."

"You're welcome," Lane said, a tremor in his voice. "And thank you. Thank you so much," he said, thanking Robbie for coming to see him, for sharing his success, for being okay…

"You know, this is a safe space to cry," Robbie asserted humorously, standing and stretching his arms out to Lane.

"Okay," Lane said, quickly stepping around the coffee table and accepting Robbie's hug.

"That's better," Robbie said, patting Lane's back.

After their hug, Robbie looked at his watch and then stuck his hands in his pockets. "Well, I have to go now. Cat should be waiting for me."

"Give her my best," Lane said, trying to collect himself. "And… I guess I won't be seeing you, then."

"I guess I won't be seeing Dr. Alexander again," Robbie said with a smirk, picking the pamphlet up off the couch and holding it in the air so Lane could see the back cover. "But I have a feeling I'll be seeing Lane again soon."

Lane smiled and put a hand on Robbie's shoulder. "You're a special person, Robbie. One of a kind. You always were."

"Thank you for believing that, sir."

Lane nodded and then led Robbie to the door. "You have a good evening, okay?"

"You do the same," Robbie replied, walking out of Lane's office and down the hall, looking back once to smile and wave goodbye.

Lane waved back, and then he closed the door of his office behind him. He slowly walked to his desk and sat down in his leather office chair, rolling it as close to the desk as it could get. The cool feel of the mahogany felt good against his warm skin as he folded his hands on top of the desk, and then he rested his head on top of his hands.

"Thank you," he said, releasing a held breath and feeling an invisible weight lifting off of his shoulders.

* * *

From the passenger seat, Robbie watched as Lane's office disappeared out of view, and then he turned his gaze west, where the sun was starting to set.

"And then what did he say?"

"He said that I was special, and one of a kind, and that I always have been."

"Duh," Cat said, rolling her eyes jokingly as she turned the steering wheel.

Robbie smiled to himself, leaning his head on the headrest as he watched his wife's profile. "Hey, do you want to go with me to watch a bunch of old people dance to Ke$ha the Saturday after next?"

Cat's mouth fell open. "Are you kidding me?! Why would I ever want to do anything else?"

"That's settled then," Robbie said happily. "Pull over so I can hold your hand?" he suddenly requested.

"Robbie, no! The drive isn't that long. You can wait," Cat giggled, glancing over at Robbie. "Aw, you're so cute when you're emotional. Don't worry, I'll drive fast."

While they were at a red light, Robbie grabbed Cat's hand for a moment. "I love you," he told her.

Robbie was grateful for all the hell he had ever gone through. It had gotten him to where he was now.

"I love you too, cutie." Cat grinned and kissed his knuckles. "Mm, smells like honeydew."

They laughed as the light turned green, and they made their way to their home, the place where together they had finally learned to be truly happy.

* * *

A/N: This fic hits kinda close to home for me. One day, I want to be at the point where Robbie is here. I'm on my way. I believe everyone needs therapy at some point in their lives, and seeing a therapist doesn't mean you're crazy. Good therapists are worth their weight in gold, and it's never wrong to seek professional help in making your life better. While I love Victorious, I think the show sometimes went a little too far in trivializing mental health and perpetuating harmful stereotypes, especially for its younger audience. Cat is more than a cute, ditzy, bipolar girl, and Robbie is more than a puppet-toting nerd. I know they're just characters, but they're _human_ characters. And since we are all human, we also are more than what we seem, and infinitely valuable.

Thanks for reading. Love y'all.


End file.
